


Preferences For Practitioner

by cryingcryptids (tatterwitch)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Doctor, Alternate Universe - Patient, Artificial Insemination, Breeding, Creampie, Doctor Kink, Doctor shiro, Doctor/Patient, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Omega Keith, Patient Keith, Vaginal Sex, afab language, trans man keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/cryingcryptids
Summary: “Keith?”It’s spoken in a low voice that makes the pit of his stomach loop over itself.A tall, broad man in light blue scrubs props the door open with one foot. His hair is cropped short around his ears and the back of his head. It’s longer on top, a rich, dark color that looks soft as it feathers above his brows. The white undershirt beneath his scrub top has its sleeves pushed up over corded forearms.Keith exhales quickly through his nose and stands. His boots scuff a little on the carpet.The man extends one hand and smiles. It’s a nice smile -- A very nice smile. It makes his eyes glint from between dark lashes and flashes a single dimple in one cheek. His hand is also very nice; the slightest bit rough across the base of his palm, long-fingered, warm, and big.“Hi, Keith. I’m Shiro and I’ll be the doctor seeing you today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll bring you right on back to our clinic rooms.”





	1. Chapter 1

The waiting room walls are an inoffensive shade of beige. Wooden chairs circle around the edges of the room, armless and without cushions. Shelves of books, a great deal filled with what looks to be anatomy charts and references to health, line the rear wall. A short table is stacked full of magazines that are outdated and missing pages.  
  


Keith shifts in his seat and stares down at the clipboard in his lap.  
  


The plastic slides on his knees as he flips through the pages. The lines upon lines of tiny black print swim and blur together.  
  


His pen moving across the paper is the loudest sound in the room by far.  
  


Some sort of generic, watery music issues from hidden speakers. A clock ticks by the receptionist’s desk. The air system hums quietly.  
  


Keith clicks the top of the pen he’d been given, reading through what feels like the thousandth page. He’s tempted to just drag the nib through the no column just to get it all over with but refrains. The questions are important.  
  


By the time he finishes the forms, his fingers are dry at the tips and his wrist aches from writing unsupported. No sooner does he slide the pen beneath the little claw at the top does the door beside the receptionist’s desk swing open.  
  


“Keith?”  
  


It’s spoken in a low voice that makes the pit of his stomach loop over itself.  
  


A tall, broad man in light blue scrubs props the door open with one foot. His hair is cropped short around his ears and the back of his head. It’s longer on top, a rich, dark color that looks soft as it feathers above his brows. The white undershirt beneath his scrub top has its sleeves pushed up over corded forearms.  
  


Keith exhales quickly through his nose and stands. His boots scuff a little on the carpet.  
  


The man extends one hand and smiles. It’s a nice smile -- A very nice smile. It makes his eyes glint from between dark lashes and flashes a single dimple in one cheek. His hand is also very nice; the slightest bit rough across the base of his palm, long-fingered, warm, and _big.  
  
_

“Hi, Keith. I’m Shiro and I’ll be the doctor seeing you today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll bring you right on back to our clinic rooms.”  
  


Shiro holds the door open just enough for the both of them to pass through. His arm brushes Keith’s in passing.  
  


Keith grips the clipboard tighter and tries to get his mind out of the gutter. One too many late nights on the internet has clearly left his mind with some sort of ingrained reaction.  
  


Shiro leads him down a long hall and stops just before the very end. He eases the door open and sweeps one arm toward the room inside.  
  


“Go on in.”  
  


Keith steps past him, careful not to let any part of himself brush against the doctor this time.  
  


The clinic room is just as plane as the waiting room had been. The walls are the same bland shade of pale brown. The leather table in the center of the room matches where it’s not covered in a thin layer of protective paper.  
  


Shiro moves past him and pulls open one of the drawers beneath the table. He pulls out a folded square of patterned cloth and sits it down atop the paper lining.  
  


“Why don’t you get changed while I review your history and questionnaires? You can leave your clothing in the chair by the desk.”  
  


Keith hands the clipboard over and nods after clearing his throat.  
  


“Uh, yeah. Sure.”  
  


Shiro gives him another smile and grips the door’s handle as he backs out of the room.  
  


“Take your time. I’ll knock before I come in.”  
  


“Sure.”  
  


The door clicks shut and Keith lets out the breath he didn’t know that he’d been holding. He makes quick work of his clothes. His boots clunk beneath the chair Shiro had pointed out. One tips over and he doesn’t bother to right it. His socks get stuffed inside. He haphazardly folds his shirt and jeans before hesitating.  
  


Keith tugs at the edges of his binder before peeling it off. The pressure around his chest vanishes and he sucks in a deep breath. He leaves his boxers on and slings his arms through the sleeves of the johnny. The collar gapes, even when he shoves the halves over his shoulders.  
  


The tiles floor is frigid under his bare feet. He lifts himself up and onto the table, wincing at the loud crinkle of paper. No sooner than he’s settled is there a knock at the door.  
  


It makes Keith’s nerves jump a little.  
  


“Decent?” Shiro calls out.  
  


“Yeah.” Keith cross his arms over his chest and tries to calm the sudden racing of his heart.  
  


The door opens with a quiet squeak.  
  


Shiro steps in and closes it behind himself. He takes the chair behind the desk and opens a file filled with what Keith can only assume are the papers he’d just finished. Shiro shuffles through them until he comes to one that looks almost empty apart from lines of prompts and rows of check-boxes.  
  


“Alright. You’ve already answered some of these questions, but I have to go through them again just to be thorough.”  
  


Keith nods, pinching the insides of his arms.  
  


Shiro runs through the questions quickly and efficiently. His pen scratches over the blank lines and fills in the empty boxes. Seemingly satisfied, he flips to another page and pushes his chair back. The wheels grate over the tile before he stands and lifts the stethoscope from his shoulders.  
  


“Do you have your binder on?”  
  


Keith shakes his head and jerks his chin to where it peeks out from between his jeans and shirt.  
  


“Okay. Good. I’m going to ask you to sit up nice and tall and keep your hands at your sides.”  
  


Shiro steps up next to him, hip bumping against the table as he warms the stethoscope in his palm. It’s still cool, even through the johnny, when Shiro presses it a few inches above his heart.  
  


“Breathe in as deeply as you can. Good. Now, out.” The stethoscope shifts positions. “Breathe in. And out. And again, in…And out.”  
  


Keith’s head spins a little. The paper crinkles beneath his fingers as cool metal drifts across his chest and ribs.  
  


Shiro moves around to his back and carefully moves the flaps of the johnny out of his way.  
  


The stethoscope is significantly cooler without the barrier of the cloth. It makes Keith’s hazy thoughts clear a little before Shiro laughs a little.  
  


“Sorry. It never really warms up.”  
  


“‘S’okay.” Keith tries to keep in the shiver that winds down his back.  
  


“I’ll have you breathe in...Perfect. And now back out-”  
  


Keith shivers again at the slightest brush of fingertips against his back. The johnny just barely clings to his shoulders.  
  


“Alright. I’ll just have you breathe normally for me, now, please.”  
  


The stethoscope ventures over his back and then forward, over his ribs and chest again.  
  


Shiro steps back and reaches for the blood-pressure cuff hanging off the wall. He lifts Keith’s arm and methodically fastens the velcro over itself.  
  


The stethoscope returns, pressing over the inside of Keith’s arm as the little black ball puffs in Shiro’s palm. Velcro and platicky material crack and wrinkle as they tighten.  
  


Keith’s pulse beats faster than he’d realized as Shiro’s lashes drift down over his cheeks. The clock ticks, ticks, ticks. The cuff releases its grip, little ball hissing while Shiro unfastens the Velcro.  
  


Shiro leans over the desk and grabs the pen he’d left there. He jots a few things down before turning again.  
  


“I’m just going to give your eyes, ears, nose, and mouth a quick check before I move on, alright?”  
  


Cardboard scrapes against latex as Shiro pulls a pair of gloves from the box atop the counter. He snaps them on and takes his time adjusting the knuckles and fingers.  
  


Shiro steps into the space between Keith’s knees, lifting a small penlight.  
  


“Look right over my shoulder. Blink whenever you need to.”  
  


The light makes Keith flinch a little before he fixes his gaze over Shiro’s ear. It moves side to side before Shiro gently cups his cheek and frowns slightly in concentration. The light moves to his other eye and repeats the horizontal arc. It clicks off and Shiro steps back. His fingertips hover just beneath Keith’s chin.  
  


“Keep your head still and follow the tip of the pen with just your eyes, okay?”  
  


Keith swallows and follows the seemingly aimless movement of the pen in Shiro’s hand. More of his attention is directed to the way the fingers under his chin are warm under the thin latex.  
  


“Great.” Shiro pockets the penlight.  
  


He stretches past Keith and pulls another little tool from the wall. It’s small, shiny metal all around the handle. The head is black and when Shiro thumbs a little button near the base, a bright light illuminates a tiny round bulb inside.  
  


An otoscope, Keith’s pretty sure it’s called. Heat makes the back of his neck itch. Too much internet, clearly.  
  


Shiro guides his head to the side. Some clicks before cool plastic nestles into his ear. Warm breath tickles his neck. Shiro moves around to the other side, lifting the tool’s cord over Keith’s head before repeating the motions with the otoscope.  
  


Seemingly satisfied, he comes back between Keith’s knees and urges Keith’s chin up. The otoscope tickles his nose, moving quickly from one nostril to the other.  
  


The trash bin clinks open under Shiro’s foot. Plastic hits the bottom of the can and the lid claps shut.  
  


Shiro pulls a wooden depressor from a jar on the counter and his penlight from his pocket.  
  


“Can you open your mouth up for me, please? Nice and wide. Tongue out.”  
  


Keith swallows quickly before obeying.  
  


The depressor pushes his tongue down. The wood tastes pulpy and sits uncomfortably in his mouth.  
  


“Say ‘ah’.”  
  


It comes out shapeless as Shiro peers into his mouth and throat.  
  


“One more time.” The depressor lifts, moves a little further back. “As long as you can manage it.”  
  


Keith sucks in a breath through his nose and closes his eyes as he obeys again.  
  


The depressor lifts and the trash can swishes again.  
  


“Can you keep your mouth open for me?” Shiro offers him a small smile at his nod. “Great.”  
  


Latex-covered fingers slip under his upper lip and lift, exposing his teeth. The pad of Shiro’s finger prods over his gums and tests the edges of his incisors. Latex squeaks over the surface before moving down to exam his bottom teeth.  
  


Shiro hums softly and steps away. His fingers fall from Keith’s jaw.  
  


The desk creaks a little as Shiro leans over it again, pen scrawling over the paperwork. A page turns and the pen rolls a little after being set back down.  
  


Shiro turns back around and gives Keith another smile.  
  


“Why don’t you hop down from there so I can get your height and weight and check a few more things before we move on?”  
  


“Sure. Yeah.” Keith slides down from the table, paper crinkling loudly.  
  


The floor is just as cold as he remembers. It makes his feet ache even as he steps up onto the scale and stands tall.  
  


Metal grates against metal when Shiro nudges the little weights across the top of the scale. The grating noise is sharper when Shiro pulls the measuring rod from the back of the scale and works it down to touch the top of his head.  
  


“Okay. You can step off, now.” Shiro stoops over the desk again and jots down the notes.  
  


The scale’s base rattles as Keith steps back onto the frigid tile. Behind his back, the halves of the johnny threaten to slide from his shoulders.  
  


“Here,” Shiro touches his elbow. “Stand facing away from me, please. I’ll check your spine and hips.”  
  


Keith turns, feet sticking a bit to the floor. His toes ache with the cold.  
  


Warm latex frames the sides of his spine, Shiro’s fingers slowly sliding down as they press inward gently. They pause at the base of his spine before palpating his hips carefully.  
  


“I’ll have you bend over as far as you can reach comfortably so I can check for any irregularities.”  
  


Keith nods, stomach knotting. He sucks in a deep breath and bends, fingertips flattening on the floor. Those gloved fingers roll down his back again, patient and methodical.  
  


“You can straighten up.” The desk chair squeaks.  
  


Keith tugs at the sleeves of the johnny and curls his toes against the floor.  
  


“Can I ask you to take the johnny and underwear off, please? You can leave them on top of your clothing if you like.”  
  


Keith swallows before complying. The johnny’s ties flutter as he lets it slide off of his shoulders. He doesn’t bother to fold it, just drapes it over the back of the chair. He shucks his boxers and stuffs them under his jeans. The room is much colder without the thin barriers provided by what little he’d been wearing only moments ago.  
  


Shiro stands, “You can hop back up onto the exam table.”  
  


The paper clings to Keith’s bare skin as he shimmies back up.  
  


Shiro’s scrubs rustle faintly as he comes to stand by Keith’s side.  
  


“I’m going to examine your chest. Can you sit up nice and tall? Great. Lift a hand over your head...Perfect.”  
  


Shiro’s gloved fingers cup beneath the soft swell of Keith’s chest. He palpates the flesh and tissue carefully, fingertips moving concentrically.  
  


“And you can put your arm back down. Okay. I’m just going to check the nipple.”  
  


Keith jumps a little when Shiro’s fingers pinch and pull gently. His nipple reacts almost immediately to the attention, stiffening in the cool air.  
  


Shiro gives a little nod and crosses to his other side.  
  


“Lift your arm for me? Good.”  
  


Heat rises into the tips of Keith’s ears as he tries not to squirm. His nipple peaks before Shiro reaches it but the doctor doesn’t comment. He tests it just as he had the other, pinching just a little firmer than before.  
  


Keith tucks his lower lip between his teeth and digs his nails into the leather of the table.  
  


“Everything seems okay up here.” Shiro presses a palm against Keith’s shoulder. “Why don’t you lay down so I can check your abdomen?”  
  


Keith leans back, lifting his hips and getting comfortable. His hands curl and uncurl at his sides.  
  


The ceiling is a murky white that matches the tile floors. Dust coats the top edge of the light overhead. A thin strand of cobweb spirals in the faint breeze from the the air system.  
  


Gloved fingers prod into his belly. They move in an arc before lifting, lowering, and repeating the motion.  
  


“Let me know if anything hurts at all.”  
  


Keith nods, hair rustling against the protective paper. It’s not comfortable but it doesn’t hurt.  
  


It’s only when Shiro presses his thumbs over his pubic bone that Keith jolts a little.  
  


“Pain?”  
  


Keith hesitates. No. No, it wasn’t pain. But he can’t admit that so he just shrugs.  
  


“Felt kinda weird.”  
  


“Alright.” Shiro lifts his hands away. “I’m going to need to take your temperature.”  
  


The doctor steps over to the counter. A drawer rolls open on smooth tracks. Something creaks and there’s a sort of wet noise, almost like a nearly empty soap bottle would make. Rubber soles squeak on the tile.  
  


Shiro’s gloved fingers shine as he turns back around. He nudges the back of his hand against Keith’s inner thigh.  
  


“Could I ask you to spread your legs, please?”  
  


Keith pauses only a second before complying. He presses his heels together at Shiro’s direction and lets his knees fall wide.  
  


Cool, slick fingers slide between his legs. He jumps at the sensation and darts his gaze to Shiro.  
  


The doctor’s face is impassive as he smears the lube along Keith’s labia and over his entrance. After a moment, those fingers dip further down and back, rubbing over his hole before quickly slipping away. Something thin and cold pushes against his hole and slides in. Another object, identical in sensation, is pushed into his pussy without preamble.  
  


Shiro lifts another to his mouth.  
  


It’s just longer than a finger and half as wide. Little numbers climb the length. A thermometer. Was this standard procedure for human doctors? It seemed so from the internet escapades Keith had gone on.

The clock on the walls ticks, seconds gathering into a full minute before Shiro pulls the thermometers free. He studies them before removing their coverings and depositing them into the trash.  
  


Shiro shucks his gloves and they, too, swish into the trash bin. He jots another note down in the file atop the desk before pulling a fresh set of gloves on.  
  


He pulls a small wheeling cart from beneath the counter and lays a wide square of textured blue cloth overtop.  
  


The cabinets and drawers open and close as Shiro gathers things. Metal and plastic glint atop the cart. A small pump-bottle joins the tools.  
  


Shiro wheels the cart over before grabbing his desk chair and positioning it at the end of the table.  
  


Metal shrieks in protest as it’s pulled up and out, arcing loops clanking into place.  
  


“Keith, can I have you scoot up closer to the edge and have you put your heels into the stirrups?”  
  


Keith complies, nose wrinkling a little at the cold that bites into the arch of his foot. The edge of the table presses against his ass, paper rustling and cracking.  
  


Shiro sits in his chair and wheels himself and the cart close.  
  


Heat bursts in Keith’s cheeks and belly as he realizes just was a sight he must make. He’s bare and slick and spread and not entirely cold to the situation.  
  


Cardboard hisses against something papery. A folded paper tissue dabs his labia clean. The trash can’s hinges squeal. Plastic rustles.  
  


Warm, latex-covered fingers carefully prod along his pubic mound.  
  


“I’m going to examine your genitals, alright?”  
  


“Yeah.” Keith flushes a little when his voice cracks.  
  


His labia are captured gently and manipulated as the doctor examines him. He’s spread open, pinched lightly but firmly as latex strokes over slickening flesh. Fingers pull his hood back, cant this way and that. The stimulation isn’t intentional but it makes Keith’s belly get hot. He can feel arousal sinking through his abdomen, threading down and making him slicker than he’d been just moments before.  
  


Shiro’s hands lift away.  
  


Something clicks, plasticky and loud. The pump-bottle makes that wet sucking noise again. A cold, blunt object presses against Keith’s pussy. It slides past his labia and easily pushes in with only the gentlest pressure from Shiro. The tool rotates slowly before wiggling a little as something clicks, clicks, clicks. It spreads Keith open with every muffled pop, until he can feel cool air where he’s only ever felt his own fingers.  
  


The tool tilts up and then down, from side to side. It slips out a tiny bit before pressing back in.  
  


Keith digs his nails into the leather of the examining table and tries to bite back the whimper that builds in his throat.  
  


“I’m going to take a few samples.” Shiro’s voice is quiet, low.  
  


It only makes the heat in Keith’s belly grow.  
  


There’s the slightest tickle against something deep inside. Keith’s hips twitch as his pussy clenches in surprise at the sensation.  
  


“Your cervix,” Shiro explains, sounding a little out of breath. “It appears to be quite sensitive.”  
  


Keith makes a noise that he hopes sounds like acknowledgement and not arousal.  
  


“I’m going to remove the speculum, now and examine you tactilely.”  
  


The tool closes with the same cracking pop it had opened with.  
  


Shiro eases it out slowly before standing from his seat. He flattens one palm over Keith’s lower belly. The fingers of his frees hand slide through lube and slick and slip inside easily. He strokes his gloved fingers over Keith’s walls, shifting the hand on Keith’s belly every now and then. His fingers turn, exploring the ceiling of Keith’s pussy. The gloved pads rub over something that has Keith’s hips jolting from the table.  
  


Keith gasps, a little noise issuing from between his teeth as his tries to catch his breath.  
  


Shiro pulls his hand away and Keith has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep quiet.  
  


Something rattles on the cart before Shiro comes back over him. Halves of shiny paper flutter into the trash before the doctor presses round, sticky disks over his chest and ribs. Little nubs of silver stand up from their centers.  
  


Shiro connects long, colored wires to the nodes and to a machine that rests atop the cart. The device comes to life after a minute, chirping a tone. It then settles into a steady beeping rhythm.  
  


“Keith,” Shiro touches his hip. “I’m going to monitor your heart rate while you experience arousal. Please don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. It’s a natural reaction to stimulation. If you feel uncomfortable at any time, let me know and I will stop. If you experience orgasm, that’s just as well, too. Are you ready?”  
  


Keith blinks before nodding. “Okay.”  
  


Shiro’s fingers slide back in slowly. His free hand returns to its spot just above Keith’s pubic bone. He quickly finds that spot that had made Keith jump just moments before.  
  


Keith’s nails rip through the paper. His head tosses. He gives up on trying to keep the noises climbing and clawing their way up his throat contained.  
  


Shiro soothes each moan and mewl with a hum or reassurance. His fingers squelch between Keith’s legs, working quick and merciless.  
  


The lights overhead blur and flicker. Metal groans under Keith’s heels. The monitoring machine sings frantically. The fire in his belly coils tight before snapping. It lashes out and through his limbs with a rumbling that rolls through Keith’s body.  
  


Keith bites his tongue hard enough that blood trickles down the back of his throat. His pussy clenches hard, ripples uncontrollably around Shiro’s fingers. The paper clings to his sweaty, slick-soaked skin as he arches, riding out the overwhelming waves of pleasure.  
  


Shiro’s fingers slip free with an almost obscene noise that Keith mirrors with a gasping moan.  
  


The nodes and sticky disks are removed, residue wiped away with something damp and cool. Latex snaps as it’s shucked off. Something slightly rough and dry moves through the mess between Keith’s legs in a perfunctory way. Once the mess is gone, the trash can opens. The bag rustles and the lids clangs shut. The desk chair wheels away, cushion squeaking. Paper shuffles atop the desk.  
  


“You can sit up now, Keith, and dress if you like. What I can tell you of your results right now seems favorable. You seem healthy. I’ll be able to tell you more once the samples come back from the lab.”  
  


Keith pulls his feet from the stirrups and hops down from the table. It’s too late for much modesty but he dresses quickly and jams his feet into his socks and boots.  
  


Shiro shuts up the files and stands. He offers Keith another smile.  
  


“Let me show you back to the receptionist’s desk. Clara will reaffirm your contact information so we can call to let you know when your results have been finalized.”  
  


“Okay. Sure.” Keith follows after Shiro and tries to ignore the slide of slick rewetting his pussy.  
  


Shiro hold the door open for him and smiles again.  
  


“It was a pleasure.”  
  


It makes Keith’s neck and ears burn.  
  


“Yeah. I’ll….I’ll see you when the results come in.”  
  


“Of course.” Shiro disappears back into the clinic.  
  


“Hello, again, Mr. Kogane. Would you like to fill out a quick questionnaire about your visit and reaffirm your contact information for me?” Clara’s voice drags Keith’s eyes back from the door.  
  


“Oh. Sure. Can I….Is it possible to request a primary physician?”  
  


“Of course! We can’t promise perfect scheduling but we’ll do our best to book you with whoever you feel most comfortable with.”  
  


Keith checks the contact information sheet and checks the bubbles next to the questionnaire’s lines before passing the clipboard back over the desk. He’s sure that his cheeks are a dark violet when he answers.  
  


“I’d like Doctor Shiro to be mine, if that’s possible.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Orgasm often encourages the chances of fertilization.” 
> 
> Keith swallows hard as something cool and rubbery rubs over his folds. More wetness, an embarrassing mixture of his own arousal and the injection of cum, leak free as he’s slowly teased.

Keith; exam table tilted up and feet hooked into the stirrups. Spread wide and wet. Speculum holding him open as Shiro holds a syringe of cum over him and slowly depresses the plunger.   
  


Keith can feel the way it slowly fills him. He fights against the urge to wriggle and bites his lip.   
  


By the time the syringe is empty, Keith’s barely keeping himself from squirming.   
  


Shiro has him sit like that while he examines Keith from head to toe again.    
  


Keith’s slowly flushing darker and darker. He’s wet from more than the lube and insemination. He can feel the rush of blood making his cock peek from its hood. Can feel the way it makes him turn dark and swollen.   
  


Shiro tilts the speculum this way and that as he intently examines Keith’s reaction to the process.   
  


After a moment he slowly slips the speculum free and helps Keith free of the stirrups.   
  


Keith presses his thighs together and tries to hold the sudden shift of fluid inside. He bites the inside of his cheek as a bit leaks from him.   
  


Shiro urges him up, raises the back of the table and has him resettle comfortably. Keith’s feet are lifted back into the stirrups as Shiro reaches between his legs and underneath.   
  


Metal scrapes and plastic clicks hollowly.   
  


“Orgasm often encourages the chances of fertilization.”   
  


Keith swallows hard as something cool and rubbery rubs over his folds. More wetness, an embarrassing mixture of his own arousal and the injection of cum, leak free as he’s slowly teased.   
  


The toy circles the fat bud of his cock before slowly slipping down. It presses against his entrance and slides in with an embarrassing lack of resistance.   
  


Keith bites back a whimper as the toy pushes deep, gets pulled back, gets pushed deep.   
  


The noises are lewd and have his hips canting up into every thrust.   
  


Shiro’s gloved free hand palms his inner thigh. His thumb rubs gentle circles near the tendons.   
  


Something clicks and the toy comes to life; buzzing in a way that makes Keith helpless against the cry that rattles in his throat.   
  


Keith can feel the wetness leaking from him. It runs down, slicks his skin in a way that makes him feel downright sinful.   
  


Shiro squeezes his thigh, palm roaming an inch higher. Another. Another. Latex, warmed by his own feverish body, collects wetness before rolling over the swollen bud at the top of his folds.   
  


Keith bucks and bites his lip so hard he tastes the faintest tang of copper.   
  


Shiro follows the needy movements of his hips easily.   
  


The edge looms close and Keith turns his head into the crinkling sheets of paper as his belly trembles.   
  


Metal groans under his hands as Shiro butts the toy deep and presses the length tight against his ceiling.   
  


Keith’s body tightens and snaps in the breadth of a heartbeat. He jerks, lashes fluttering as he whimpers between his pursed lips. Ecstasy burns through him like a hundred meteors streaking across a black sky.   
  


The toy slips free before his orgasm reaches its cusp and Keith’s mouth opens around the promise of a wail.   
  


Latex flattens over his face, thick fingers parted over his nose. His cry buzzes against Shiro’s hand. He feels empty and soaked and desperate.   
  


Shiro shoves the tray beneath his hips away. He catches Keith’s legs from their positions in the stirrups and holds them aloft as he gets the metal loops and bars put away.   
  


“Keep those there, baby.”   
  


The name makes heat bubble behind Keith’s ribs.   
  


Shiro’s hands disappear. Fabric rustles. The table shakes a little before something hot and hard presses against Keith where he’s still open and wet and aching.   
  


Shiro’s gloved hands wrap around his ankles and coax the trembling muscles into draping over the crooks of his elbows.   
  


Keith moans when he looks down between his splayed legs and spots the proud jut of Shiro’s cock. It’s thick and flushed dark. Clear fluid beads at the slit.   
  


Shiro shuffles closer, the length of him pressing between soaked folds. He ruts lazily, like there’s only them and all the time in the world.   
  


When Shiro’s cockhead finally catches and dips in shallowly, Keith arches with a soft keen. Shiro pushes in leisurely; inch by inch by inch.   
  


He stretches Keith deliciously. He reaches deeper than the toy had. He’s hot and thick and twitches when Keith rubs his cheek against the tissue over the table and mewls.   
  


"How does that feel, Keith?"   
  


Drool threatens to slide free as Shiro simply fills him. He swallows thickly.   
  


"Good." His voice is a hoarse thing that belies his arousal. Not that his body and its reactions already hadn't. Shiro's cock twitches in him again and Keith's breath catches.   
  


"Copulation can help increase the chances of successful insemination."   
  


"That's usually how it works." The words are out before Keith can think too much about them. Pleasure has loosened his tongue.   
  


Shiro huffs a laugh, though. It does some very interesting things.   
  


Keith presses his tongue against his teeth and savors the stretch as Shiro stills.   
  


"If you feel any pain or discomfort, please let me know immediately."   
  


Keith nods, locking his jaws against the chance that he might say anything else foolish.   
  


It's a fruitless gesture, however. Shiro's hips pull back and his thick cock drags deliciously over Keith's walls.   
  


He rocks forward at the same pace, sending pleasure sparking along every one of Keith's nerves.   
  


Despite his best efforts, Keith's mouth falls open. He huffs little sounds with every thrust.   
  


Shiro's breathing changes. It saws in and out deeply as his gloved fingers flex.   
  


Laid like this, all Keith can do is take what Shiro gives him. He flutters, clenching helplessly around Shiro's cock as it pounds away.   
  


Cum, lube, and his own wetness squelch loudly in the quiet room. The paper beneath him crinkles. The table rocks and squeaks.   
  


Keith can feel his orgasm winding in his belly once more; the tightening heat making sweat prickle over his skin. His instincts clamor. He turns his face to the table again, sweat-damp cheek sticking to the tissue.   
  


"I- I'm close-"   
  


"Good." Shiro's breathless, voice low and dark.   
  


"Come for me. baby. Let's make sure that everything takes."   
  


Keith whimpers, legs trembling where they're draped over Shiro's elbows. His toes curl in the cool air. His nails scrape over the leather surface of the table where they've torn through the tissue.   
  


The coiling heat in his belly snaps once more, sparks flying through his veins. His eyes fly wide as he struggles to hold in the scream that buzzes behind his teeth at the burning pleasure.   
  


Shiro's cock kicks within him, twitching repeatedly as something hot seeps deeper.   
  


Cum. Shiro had came in him. Was coming in him.   
  


Keith can't hold back the brittle cry that rises up his throat. He comes again, milking Shiro hungrily. Dimly, he thinks that he'd give anything to spend his next heat with this human doctor. Though, if this trial takes, that won't be for three whole cycles.   
  


Keith pants as he comes back to himself. Goosebumps prickle over his cooling skin.   
  


Shiro slowly lowers his legs as his softening cock slips free.    
  


Something soft is pressed just inside and against his entrance. Something of similar texture but dampened rubs over his folds, thighs, and bottom.   
  


Shiro pats him dry and returns the exam table to its standard position. His cock hangs between his legs, soft and still wet.   
  


Keith's mouth waters at the sight. He longs to sink to his knees despite the cold tile and lick every bit of their coupling from his skin. He wants to feel Shiro harden again on his tongue. He wants Shiro to come for him again. He wants a taste of what he's filled with right then.  
  


Instead, Keith slides off the table and redresses. He watches Shiro clean himself off and step back into his scrub pants.   
  


The wheels of the desk chair squeak as Shiro sits and types some more notes on his data pad.   
  


Keith finishes lacing his boots as Shiro stands.    
  


"I'll see you at your next appointment, Keith." Shiro holds the door open for him.   
  


"Yeah." It's hoarse and quiet and earns Keith a lopsided smile.   
  


Keith can't wait. 


End file.
